


A Little Help, A Little Push, A Little Love

by DevouredbyFandoms



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cockles, M/M, MinnConn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 23:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4643271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevouredbyFandoms/pseuds/DevouredbyFandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick, one shot, and a little personal grief therapy over Misha being hurt and wondering how Jensen would respond to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Help, A Little Push, A Little Love

A Little Help, A Little Push, A Little Love

These good fellows don't belong to me, but I promise when I'm done to pick um up, dust um off and with a kiss on the cheek return them safely home.  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Where are you going?" Rob asked as Misha stood up from the table in the back staging area.

"Time to find some dinner. Anyone else?" He looked around at the few faces that were still lingering after the final panel of the day. 

Rob and Matt shook their heads. "Nah, we're headed for the bar in a bit." They both chuckled. Enjoying the after parties was one of the convention circuit perks they enjoyed. 

Jensen shook his head. "No man, I got all the dinner I need right here." He held up the beer bottle, then leaned forward and gave a little eyebrow raise. "But I could use some pie."

Misha rolled his eyes as the others laughed. "The pub downstairs doesn't have pie, they have cake. I can bring you cake."

Jensen slowly shook his head as he pressed his lips together. "Nope, just not the same thing. I need some pie." He took a long swig of his beer without breaking eye contact.

"Cake."

His full lips curled up into a smile. "If you love me."

Rob and Matt shot each other a glance as Misha just laughed.

"I guess you're just going to go hungry tonight then."

Misha turned and walked out of the backstage room as Jensen kept calling out to him. "Pie!" continued to echo down the hallway as he left the hallway of meeting rooms. With a big smile on his face, he headed out into the lobby area where the crowd quickly thickened. Looking around he could see that the couches and chairs in the waiting areas were filled with Supernatural fans, all here for the weekend. Their faces lit up as he walked by, waving and shouting out his name and squeals of hello. He knew he should have his 'handler', but as he often did he continued to elude them in the late evening hours.

Seeing his fans was not a problem for him, being blocked from them or seeing them pushed away and discouraged from interacting was more of an issue. He smiled and waved back, giving thumbs up to the many cosplays that wandered around and stopping a couple of times to pose for selfies when someone was brave enough to ask. Digging into his pocket he double checked for his room key card and wallet as he continued to walk past the little late night in hotel pub and headed out the main front doors.

He strolled out of the hotel, into the darkened streets, with lamplights reflecting off the passing cars and low lying clouds blocking any chance of seeing the stars. He couldn't wipe the smile off his face, not yet anyway. There was too much to be happy about right now in his life. Vickie was excitedly working on her new book, the kids were doing great, gishwhes had been a total success and he was at a con. Con's made him very happy.

The little restaurant a couple of blocks down was famous for its chicken wings, or so he had been told by some of the hotel staff. It was a good opportunity to get out of the hotel and find some dinner. The walk was short and it would be worth it to see the look on Jensen's face when he saw the pie. Oh yes, he knew where to find the pie at every con. Wandering in he immediately caught the eyes of numerous men and women, of all ages, and from all over the world. More fans.

They came in all shapes, sizes, ethnicities, cultures, races, and gender identities. People who had one thing in common. A love of a TV show called Supernatural. They waved and giggled, shared big smiles and even a few winks. Most were shy and looked down as he smiled back and gave them a little wave. He never minded interacting with the fans. They were the reason he had made it to this point in his life. They supported his causes, cheered him on in his acting career, did crazy things in his yearly scavenger hunt and generally were the best fans in the world.

He walked over to the bar and leaned into it, seeing the bartender at the far end. A nod of his head when they made eye contact sent the man in his direction.

"What can I get ya?" He asked.

Misha flipped through the menu and pointed to some items. "Burger with everything, fries, grilled chicken sandwich, side salad and two slices of your apple pie."

The man nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. He turned around and right behind him was a table with three ladies and a man. Sliding off his stool he sauntered over and pointed to the empty chair.

"Is this seat taken?"

They smiled and quickly shook their heads. Over the next half-hour, he chatted nonstop with the group as they laughed about roommate antics and general happenings at the hotel. 

"Hey," the bartender called over to him. "You're ready."

Standing up he shook their hands, posed for some quick photo's then said his goodbyes. He picked up the bag of food and headed back into the night. It had been a long day, but he had a lift in his step after his enjoyable chat and with the knowledge that he carried pie. As he crossed a street something caught his eye in the alleyway between the buildings. The lack of streetlight at the corner didn't allow him to see all the way to the end, making a paved road that led to nothingness. But what he did see came rushing at him in the time he took a single breath.

Before he even had the chance to raise his arms they were on him. It was impossible to know how many there even were, two, three, maybe even four. Rumblings of multiple voices surrounded him, speaking low and full of anger. He couldn't help thinking, why me? Impacts targeted his stomach, ribs, and face. It was only a matter of seconds until they had him on the ground, any attempts at self-defense immediately thwarted. The assault was coming from all directions at the same time and the pain was overwhelming. He began to drift out of consciousness.

Pushing his eyes open was more work than it should have been, his view blurry and instilling momentary panic. Before he could even move the pain was already making itself known. His head was pounding. With effort, he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position and leaned against the brick wall that he found in close proximity. It was still difficult to know where he was, but as his vision cleared some he could see the street lights far in the other direction. He somehow had ended up at the end of the alley. Struggling to stand he started to clear his thoughts and decide what to do. He knew he had to get back to the hotel the problem was he wasn't exactly sure he could get that far. Digging into his pockets, one by one, he found them all empty. They had managed to take everything, including his phone.

Now, he had no other choice. He had to get moving, somehow. If nothing else he had to out of the alley in case they decided to come back. Gritting his teeth, he pushed up against the wall, letting it support his weight as much as possible, as he flinched against the pain in his sides. He swallowed the blood in his mouth from biting his cheek, it's warm salty taste making him nauseated. The cut on his lip was burning as the evening air brushed across it and a hand to his head revealed the cut that was bleeding down his cheek and neck. 

Getting stable on his feet was only the first step and he already needed a minute to catch his breath. When he looked up it was then that he noticed the door across the alleyway. Directly in front of him was the back kitchen door to the hotel. He would have smiled if it didn't hurt his lip. Stumbling across the dirty road he reached the locked door.

"Please," he muttered, barely audible. His hand passed across the small doorbell, pressing it over and over until the door finally inched open.

"What the hell?!" The young busboy called out to him.

"I need help," Misha told him as he leaned in, almost falling again.

The young man quickly caught him and guided him out of the alley. Misha winced when his arm slid around his waist, pushing on his rapidly forming bruises, to support him.

"Here man, sit here," he said, guiding him to a chair just outside the main kitchen.

"I need a phone." Misha tried to smile against the swelling of his lip.

"You need an ambulance, I'll call for one," he quickly turned to go to a phone. 

Misha stuck his hand out quickly, grabbing his arm. "No, no, I'm okay, just shaken up. I'll be okay. Do you have a phone I can borrow? They took mine." 

The young man nodded and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. "Here, use mine. I'll get a towel for your cuts." He disappeared around the corner. 

Misha sat in the hallway trying to figure out what the hell just happened to him and what he was going to do about it. He still felt totally overwhelmed. He knew he couldn't call Vickie, not yet. There was nothing she could do to help and it would only have her worrying like crazy hundreds of miles away. Honestly, he knew, who to call and he knew that number by heart. 

The voice didn't even wait for him to speak. It was full of drunken bliss. "Misha? Where the hell did you go? We thought you'd been kidnaped by some rabid fans or something. I'm still waiting for my pie you know."

"No, no rabid fans." He paused and swallowed more blood, this time the action hurt more. "Jen, I'm, I'm here in the kitchen. I need you to meet me down here."

Jensen's tone instantly changed. "What's wrong?"

He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. "I'll explain when you get here. Just hurry."

The line went dead instantly and he pushed the end button before trading it for the wet cloth that was handed to him.

"Thanks," he ended with a deliberate pause.

"Mike," the young man said.

"Thanks, Mike. If you don't mind, I'd like to keep this kinda quiet. I don't want everyone panicking."

Mike smiled. "Sure Mr. Collins, you got it."

Misha smiled again, before grimacing against the pulling of his lip. Within a couple of minutes he could hear the intensity of Jensen's booming voice before he could even see the man. 

"MISHA!"

The calm and control that he had maintained since the attack was almost undone when he saw the panicked green eyes round that last corner and rush too him. 

"Jesus Christ!. What happened?" Jensen barked between Misha and Mike.

Mike flinched at the intensity that radiated from the man who nearly towered over his five foot, eight stature. "He was in the alleyway. I let him in, but I don't know what happened to him."

"I'm okay." Misha tried to relax and convince him. "But, I need help getting back to my room."

"To the room hell, you're going to the hospital right now."

Misha started shaking his head only to feel it swim and make his world blurry. He had to reach down and grab the chair. "No, no, I'm okay."

"Yea, you're okay. You're about to fall out of the chair. You're going to the ER and there's nothing else to discuss." 

Misha looked up at his friend. Jensen was literally shaking at this point. "I don't want to go through the hotel looking like this. It'll just upset everyone and I don't want to cause a big scene." 

Jensen looked around trying to formulate a plan. Misha was right, a fan meltdown was not what they needed right now. He also knew that he couldn't waste a lot of time. Misha was looking paler by the minute.

"I have a car."

They both looked at Mike, who proceeded to pull his keys out of his pocket. "I can pull it around to the back door here, no one will see you."

Jensen smiled. It was the first time he allowed himself to take a deep breath. "Thanks, man."

When Mike was gone, Jensen took the washcloth out of Misha's hand and began to wipe away the blood from his face. His touch was gentle, tender.

"What the fuck happened?" The shock resonated in his voice.

"I got mugged," Misha answered with a shrug. "I mean, I guess that's what it was. I've never been mugged before. I didn't see them in time and they dragged me into the alley."

"Dragged you?" Jensen interrupted, his jaw clamped down tight, in anger.

"Yea, two or three of them, I'm not really sure. Never got a good look at any of them."

Jensen felt exasperated. "Enough to identify them if you got the chance?"

Misha shrugged, which caused a groan of pain. "Maybe, I'm not sure right now."

"Here hold this to your lip," he softly placed the rag on the open cut. When he was the wince, he immediately made the same face. "Easy."

Misha looked down at the distraught face that even now he could only call beautiful. "I'll be okay, don't worry about me."

Jensen just nodded but remained quiet. It didn't even know how to express the rage that was ripping through him right now. 

Soon the door opened up and Mike stood there, his little red hatchback behind him. "I keyed in the GPS the directions to the hospital. It's about fifteen minutes from here."

Misha stopped and took the young man's hand. "Thank you, Mike. You saved me tonight."

Mike was speechless for a moment. "I'm just glad I could help. I'm a big fan Mr. Collins, Mr. Ackles."

Jensen nodded back as he said thanks and helped Misha to the car. It took slow movements as the soreness was already settling into his muscles and joints. Jensen eased him into the passenger seat then pulled the seatbelt over him, securing it into place.

"Ready?"

Misha nodded but didn't speak, instead leaning his head back on the headrest and closing his eyes. Jensen frowned with worry as they headed down the alley and into the dark streets.

The trip was quiet and he didn't even turn on the radio. Misha seemed to be resting and he didn't want to disturb him, yet he worried that he was too quiet.

"Damn it!" He barked out when a car stopped at a yellow light to wait.

Misha's eyes opened up. "Jen?"

His head jerked around at the soft voice. "Oh man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up. Are you okay?"

Misha gave a little smile to the green eyes. "Just get us there in one piece, please."

His point had been made. Jensen slowed down some for the last few blocks, but not by much.

Once they reached the emergency room the triage nurse quickly checked Misha in and didn't waste time on moving him to a room in the back. However, much to his frustration and verbose displeasure, Jensen was forced to wait in the waiting room. He didn't like it, not one little bit. This was an inner city ER and the place was swarming with business. The waiting room was at full capacity and there were even several police officers were milling around, keeping peace and order in the chaos. There wasn't anywhere left to sit and it didn't even matter because Jensen was too busy pacing the floors waiting on someone to tell him what the hell was going on. Somewhere behind those closed doors his friend was alone.

Hours later Misha finally emerged back into the waiting room. The nurse with him passed a stack of papers to Jensen.

"These are his discharge instructions. He will need repeat X-rays of his ribs in two days and he has prescriptions for pain pills. There are no pharmacy's open at this hour so here are enough to get him through the night when you can fill the prescriptions. He needs to use cold packs for the swelling for forty-eight hours then heat as needed. We've already given him something for pain so he can't drive and really shouldn't be left alone tonight."

Jensen nodded. He had no intentions of dropping his friend off and leaving him alone. 

"What about a police report?" He asked the nurse.

"The officer got his information. They will contact him in the next couple of days," she answered blandly.

"Contact him in a couple of days? So those bastards just get to go home and watch TV like nothing happened?!" His voice rose with each word.

"Jen."

The sound was so quiet anyone else would have missed it, but he didn't. He looked back over to Misha and saw the pleading in his eyes. Releasing a deep breath he took the papers from the nurse.

"Let's get you home."

The ride seemed even quieter this time, the streets now nearly deserted. Misha slept beside him and a gentle rain fell around them. They had been in the emergency room for over four hours and even he was exhausted. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his cell phone, pulled up favorites and dialed.

"Yea, we're headed back. Meet me in the back. I don't want anyone else knowing about this yet." He paused to listen. "Okay, thanks, see you in 5."

Misha hadn't stirred.

He pulled into the back employee parking lot and stayed in the car until he saw Cliff at the door.

"Mish, hey, time to wake up."

Misha stirred and opened his eyes. Jensen had caught the flash of panic in them before he realized where he was.

God damn fucking bastards.

"Come on, let's get you to your room."

Misha nodded but stayed quiet. Jensen helped him out of the car, he was sleepy but pretty steady on his feet.

"I don't want anyone to see me like this."

"They won't, we're going up the back and security has cleared the hallways for us."

Misha nodded again. He had complete faith in his friend to take care of him.

Cliff's face flashed red when he saw them emerge from the darkness into the lighted building. Jensen caught it.

"I know, let's just get him upstairs."

Cliff took his other arm and between the two men his feet were barely touching the ground to walk. They didn't speak anymore as they moved out of the elevator and down the hallway to the room. Hotel security was standing by Misha's door.

"Thanks," Jensen said.

"I'll wait out here," Cliff told him.

"He's been drugged. The nurse said to not leave him alone tonight, so I'll crash on the couch. Go get some sleep."

Cliff nodded and closed the door.

Jensen began to guide him over to the bed, but Misha shook his head and pointed to the bathroom. The unspoken need was understood and he helped him to the door. Misha went in and closed the door, not locking it. Jensen went back to the bed, pulled down the covers then went to the opened suitcase and pulled out a clean white t-shirt. Hearing the door open he helped Misha back towards the bed.

"Let's get you out of this stuff." He started to unbutton his shirt, trying to ignore the blood all over the shoulders and front of it. It was torn in several places, a reminder of the struggle that had taken place.

"You just want to undress me," Misha smiled, his pupils large from the pain killers.

Jensen grinned back, but kept his voice even. "Not going there, Mish. Here, raise your arms." He pulled the clean shirt down over his head.

Quickly he wet a washcloth with warm water and returned to the bed. "Can't believe they didn't at least clean you up. Not like we weren't there long enough." He began washing his face, gently, cleaning the blood away from his hairline.

Misha's face was right in front of his.

"You're beautiful you know."

Jensen met the ocean blue eyes. "You're drugged you know."

Misha reached up and traced a finger down his cheek. "Drugs or not. You're beautiful."

Jensen stood up and moved to sit beside him on the bed. "Just be still and let me get this cleaned up." At least he wasn't feeling much pain at this point.

He realized that the black marks on his elbows and shoulders were road abrasions for where they dragged him against the asphalt. The anger in him kept growing with each bruise counted and each drop of blood cleaned away. He gently dabbed the three stitches on his lip, then the ten at his scalp and hairline.

"I'm sorry," Misha whispered.

Jensen looked into his eyes again. "What could you possibly have to be sorry about?" And he meant it. There was little that this man could do wrong in his eyes.

"For keeping you up and being so much trouble."

He didn't know whether to laugh or not. But, there was a deep pain in those blue eyes that caught him from doing it.

"What the fuck were you doing out there anyway. You said you were going to the pub."

Misha tilted his head as if the next words were somehow crucial. "They had cake."

"What the hell Mish? This was about me and pie?"

"This was about me loving you."

Jensen sat up, about to berate him for chasing down pie when the last words sank in. He was speechless. And before he could respond back Misha's eyes grew heavy and he turned to fall into the pillow. Jensen slid down and pulled off his shoes and socks then lifted his legs onto the bed, pulling the covers up over him. He turned off the overhead lights, leaving on the bathroom light so he could still see his face. Grabbing the chair by the desk he parked it by the nightstand. There he sat watching his friend sleep.

Loving you

The explanation was simple. He was drugged to the hilt, exhausted, and traumatized. People say insane things under those conditions. Don't they? The room was quiet now and soon his own exhaustion overtook him, his eyelids growing heavy until he was asleep sitting up.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A noise in the dark woke him up as his head snapped to attention and the few seconds of disorientation held him in place. When more noise was heard, he looked down and realized with a panic that the bed was empty and Misha was staggering to the bathroom. Damn, he had been sleeping too hard to even hear him get up. Jumping to his feet he rushed over and grabbed his arm. 

"Easy there partner. I got ya."

Misha looked up and pulled up a half-hearted smile. "Sorry, too many IV fluids."

They gave him IV fluids? Damn it, this is why he needed to be back there with him.

"No problem. Here, you got it?"

Misha reached for the door and nodded without looking back.

He leaned against the wall beside the door and waited. Trying to not listen, but listening. The toilet flushed. The sink ran some water. Then it was just quiet. And he waited. Growing concerned he gently tapped on the door. 

"You okay in there?"

There was no answer and his internal alarms went off. Turning the knob he opened the door to find Misha standing in front of the mirror, in his t-shirt and white boxers.

"I look like shit."

Jensen chuckled. "Well, I have seen you looking better."

Misha didn't smile back. He simply turned and headed back to the bed and crawled under the covers. Jensen pulled them up over him as Misha pointed to the chair.

"Yea?" Jensen defended.

"You watching over me?"

He sat down. "Well, the nurse said to not leave you alone tonight."

"I don't think that meant to sit up all night."

Jensen shrugged. He had no intentions of leaving.

Misha patted the bed behind him. "Lay down, get some sleep. Tomorrow's a long day."

He had to admit, he was exhausted and it was four in the morning already. Putting the chair back by the desk he slid off his shoes and laid down on the far side of the king size bed. "You better not bite in your sleep," Jensen grumbled.

Misha rolled to his side, away from him. "Only if you ask nicely."

Jensen couldn't help it, a big smile came on his face.  
_______________________________________________________________________________________________

He was content and comfortable. There was nothing that encouraged him to push away the incredible dream he had just experienced. Slowly, though, as the morning sun filtered through his consciousness and he became more aware of his surroundings. It was in that haze that he remembered he wasn't in bed alone. He also remembered quickly that he wasn't naked. He was aware of that fact because the morning hard on he had was extremely uncomfortable against his buttoned up jeans.

Worse than that were Misha's legs wrapped around his as his body pressed up against him. The still sleeping arm was tucked under his shirt and fingers splayed across his chest, warm and inviting. Looking around the room he was thankful for the fact that Misha had a private room. The next question was if he could untangle himself from the muscular form beside him without waking him up. Because wouldn't that be embarrassing to them both? Well, at least to him. Misha was the type that little embarrassed him, and there were parts of himself that envied that trait. But now was not the time to debate it. Turning his head, he came almost nose to nose with him.

He realized that his face wasn't peaceful, it was frowning, grimacing, his features soft as if the dream wasn't fully with him. Reaching up he pressed his finger into the creases between his eyebrows, an effort to make them go away because it was very disconcerting to see anything less than a smile on that face. His features relaxed again and Jensen lightly touched the sutures on his forehead as if his wish to make them disappear would be instantly granted.

That low anger once again began to brew. How could anyone do this to someone so....

So what?

So beautiful?

Yes, Misha was beautiful to him. He wasn't immune to the Misha charms, any more than the hundreds of screaming girls that would be in the panel later today. Pressing his hand into the mattress he cursed himself. What the hell was he doing? He was a married man, a father and here he was cuddling with another man, with a hard on.

Misha stirred again. The furrowed brow returning. Jensen immediately felt the need to remove it and his fingers smoothed out the lines as Misha continued to sleep. Misha's hand rubbed across his chest then stomach. He was still asleep, but that didn't change the fact that his own hard-on was pressing against Jensen's hip bone.

Jensen froze. He suddenly remembered his dream.

This wasn't good. He had to get up. Right now before....

Before what? 

Before fucking what?

Fuck.

He slowly worked at untangling his legs from the long naked ones. Misha let his legs go but tightened his arm grip. Jensen's skin tingled like electricity had touched him, going straight to his cock.

FUCK.

In one fell swoop, he slid out of bed, hitting the floor before jumping to his feet. Misha frowned again then rolled over and continued to sleep, taking a pillow with him to spoon. Jensen went into the bathroom and locked the door. A shower. He needed a nice hot shower. Not having a change of clothes he laid his on the counter and stepped into the steaming spray. Lathering up he found it hard to ignore his hard cock and the dream he had last night. The dream with Misha had been so intense. It wasn't the first time he'd had dreams like that, but nothing like this. Then waking up in his arms? It was stupid. It was one thing to open flirt and play, to entertain the fans and laugh with the Destiel shippers. It's not like anything would happen in real life.

His soapy hand wrapped around his cock, slowly stroking it, up and down. A low moan escaped his lips as he threw his head back. Rubbing his thumb over the tip, so sensitive to his touch, his sac tightened in response. He just needed some release then he could think straight again. Pressing his forehead against the tiled wall he continued to stroke the shaft, dipping down to play with his balls and press his fingers along the rim of skin that extended to his ass. His dream resurfaced, clips of images of sweaty bodies intertwined and intense blue eyes staring into his, pinned beneath them. His breath quickened and he gripped his cock tighter, feeling it's hardness in his hand, knowing the only person that could get him this worked up was someone who shouldn't. Up and down, cupping the tip, his teeth clamped down as he exploded against the shower wall. Stroking until the last drop was out and his body shuddered with the release.

Jensen. 

What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing.

After he had dressed, he came out of the shower to find Misha standing out on the balcony. A moment of terror raced through him, wondering how loud he had been. Then Misha turned around and he stopped cold in his tracks.

The man was broken.

He was in there jerking off while the man he cared so much about was out here alone and broken. Joining him in the morning coolness he sat down in the chair beside him, as Misha took the other chair.

"How are you feeling?"

Misha shrugged. He didn't smile. There was no life in his eyes. "Okay, I guess."

"Are you in pain?"

"Sore."

He could see him moving with care. "I'll be right back."

When he returned, he had a glass of water and a pill in his hand.

"No, I don't want to be drugged out today."

"This won't drug you out. It'll help with the soreness and muscles aches. Take it."

Misha took the pill from his hand and the glass, swallowing it in one drink. He continued to stare out into the city.

"I'll call John and let him know you won't be down today."

Misha looked back quickly. "I can't cancel."

Jensen slid forward in his chair. "You can't do this today Mish, you're hurt and in pain."

"I'm okay. I'll be fine and soon everyone will know about it. I have to let everyone know I'm okay."

Jensen shook his head. His friend was anything but okay. He had never seen this in his eyes before. "Look, we can let Richard and Rob update the fans."

"They're going to lose it." There was no amusement in his tone.

He couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, someone has beat up their Overlord. They'll be out for blood soon."

Misha leaned closer to him, their knees almost touching. "That's why I have to show up today. I have to let them know I'm going to be okay. You know the rumors will fly, they'll have me dying somewhere in LA if I don't get the record straight right away."

Jensen shrugged and rolled his eyes. "That's going to happen anyway. Look, man, I'm really worried about you. I don't want you overdoing it today."

Finally he smiled some, then winced at his sore and now fully swollen lip.

"I'll get some ice for that. Don't move."

Pulling open the door he found Cliff standing here.

"Did you sleep any?" Jensen quickly asked.

"Probably as much as you did. How's he doing?" Cliff's concern was genuine.

His shoulders slumped. "This really hit him hard I think. I want to keep this private for now. We're working on a plan to let the fandom know."

Cliff looked at the ice-bucket in his hand and took it. "I'd advise you to stay out of the halls for now."

Jensen nodded. "Thanks."

When Cliff returned with the ice, he put some in a washcloth and returned to the balcony. Misha hadn't moved. Kneeling down beside him he put the ice pack on his lip. "Here, keep this on for a while, see if we can get some of that swelling down this morning."

Misha grabbed his hand. "I don't think I can get through all this without you."

Jensen patted his hand. "I'm not going anywhere."

The next half hour consisted of phone calls to primary people to let them know what had happened. Everyone was equally upset and angry. Jensen encouraged them to not come up yet, that Misha was still resting.

"I want to do the photo ops this afternoon."

He looked up to see Misha standing over him. His first instinct was to say no. The man in front of him was like a child asking for permission. I wasn't a demand. It was a plea. "I can't talk well so I don't see how I can do a panel, but I can stand for pictures."

He stood up beside him. "They're going to want to hug you, you're not going to be able to handle that."

"I just can't let them down. Nothings broken, just sore. Photo's I don't have to talk any and this side isn't too bad," he turned to a profile, the side without the laceration. "Mark can keep them off me."

Jensen shook his head. He didn't like it. The fans would never do anything to deliberately hurt him, but they could be pushy sometimes. He shook his head again. "I just don't like it. They could hurt you and I can't ...."

Misha's head tilted some. "Can't what Jen?"

Jen. 

It was a pet name that Misha had been calling him for a while now. And it made his heart skip a beat, every single time. He couldn't go there. Not now. Not ever. He stepped out of Misha's reach and headed to the phone.

"I'll get us some breakfast. If you insist on doing the ops, I'll call and let them know."

Suddenly he felt him behind him. Close.

"Jen. Talk to me."

He couldn't turn around. "I'm talking. Can't you hear me talking?"

The body moved away, leaving him wanting. He turned to see that Misha had gone into the bathroom. Picking up the phone he called room service and ordered something for them both before returning to the balcony and warming sunshine.

Breakfast was quiet. Misha grimaced at his attempts to eat anything except the soft biscuit and sips of coffee. Jensen felt guilty for not ordered something easier for him to eat.

"I can order something else."

"No, this was fine. I'm just not hungry." He stood up. "I think I'm going to lay down for a while."

"Sure," Jensen nodded. "Let me know if you need anything."

Misha made eye contact with him and held him there for several seconds. His eyes tried to convey something, but all Jensen could see was sadness. And it broke his heart.

"I'm going to get a change of clothes and my laptop. I'll be right back."

Misha nodded as he laid down.

Using the staff back, elevator Cliff escorted Jensen down to his room and waited while he gathered needed items. He sat down and called his wife to let her know what happened.

"Oh Jensen, I'm so sorry to hear this. How is he?"

"He's really shaken up. I've never seen him like this. I feel like I don't know what to do for him."

"You're special to him honey, you know that and it's okay. Be there for him, for whatever he needs right now. I love you."

"I love you too honey. Always."

When they headed back to the room, the hallways held crying girls and big signs on the elevator that read Misha we love you!

The word was officially out.

When he got back to the room, Misha was still in bed sleeping. He went to the desk and set up his laptop and opened up his twitter and facebook accounts.

Dear. God.

Not only was the word out, but the fandom was having a meltdown. If they didn't want to murder the attackers, they wanted to kiss him until he was well again.

Well, no one was kissing his....

His?

Fuck!

He refocused on the social media posts, to try and get an idea of what was going on outside their current bubble of safety. Rumors were flying. Some said it was all a lie, some had him permanently maimed, cheating on his wife, and even falling down drunk. Others just had him dead. His heart seized in his chest at those words causing him to quickly glance back to watch the rise and fall of his chest. 

His phone vibrated on the desk and he realized the ringer was still turned off. There were eighteen missed calls and just as many voicemails. He answered this one. "Hey, yeah, he's asleep, come on up. Okay, that will work."

He sent a quick text to Cliff that company was coming up soon and closed his laptop. Much to his dismay everyone had agreed with Misha on the photo. If he was up to it and insisted and he was right, it would be helpful to disprove some of the flying rumors.

Reaching down he gently roused him from sleep. "Mish?"

The blue eyes greeted him. The fog of pain not gone.

"Man, I hate to wake you up, but Rob's on the way up and photo ops are in an hour. I thought you might want to grab a shower."

Misha nodded and groaned as he sat up. It took everything Jensen had to not scream at the top of his lungs. Instead, he gathered up clean clothes and turned on the warm shower for him before leaving him alone. Misha stood there stoic.

"Holler if you need anything okay? I'll be right out here with Rob."

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

"How's he doing?" Rob's face and demeanor were very serious with deep concern.

"As good as possible after what he went through I guess. The pain pills have had him kinda drugged out and mostly just been sleeping."

"And he really wants to do this? You can't talk him out of it?"

"Yea, he is pretty insistent about it. Is it chaos down there?"

Rob smiled. "Well, you can just imagine. Someone hurts Misha and the world is turned upside down. But I think the not knowing is making it worse."

"Well, I'm not sure they are going to feel any better when they seem him."

They looked up when the bathroom door opened. Misha perked up a bit seeing Rob standing there. However, they were shocked when they saw him in the daylight. He had on jeans, but no shirt. Jensen's heart sank. There were bruises all over his chest, along his ribs, at his hip bone and dipping past his beltline. He walked over to the suitcase and put the solid blue one away and pulled out a pink stripped one instead.

"This is why I can't have pretty boy dress me anymore. He just isn't in touch with what the fans expect from me."

Rob tried to bring up a laugh, but it was forced. Jensen couldn't even respond to the jab.

He gingerly slid the shirt on, letting air hiss between his teeth at the stretching muscles that protested. Tucking it in, he buckled the belt and walked over to them. "Thanks for coming by," he told Rob.

"Of course man. Just had to check on you myself, make sure you were okay."

He ran his fingers through his chaotic wet hair. "Well, bruised and sore, but I'm okay. A little sleep and a good shower helped a lot." He smiled over at Jensen. "And the hotels best nurse maid."

Rob did laugh at that one. "Well, I'm not exactly sure that's the definition of a nursemaid, but glad he was there to get you to the hospital."

Rob spoke from experience and they all knew it.

"Me too."

"Have you talked to Vicki?" Rob asked.

"This morning. I called her first thing. I didn't want her finding out through social media. She's doing okay."

"Good. And you're sure about this photo op thing?"

Misha nodded. It wasn't even up for discussion anymore.

"Okay, well the first op is with Mark. He's up to date and will help keep the fans under control and distracted. If that's even possible."

Misha tried to smile, but it pulled on his lip. "I'm sure it won't be, but I don't want to disappoint them."

Rob nodded. "Then let's do this."  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jensen paced the floors behind the curtains that stood between him and the photo shoot. It was a fiasco out there. Fans were sobbing and wailing. Everyone was gasping and horrified at Misha's injuries, and they could only see his face. His worst fears were battling inside him because despite the endless warnings to not hug and to be gentle with him there was a frequent grimace on his face.

"Will you sit down?"

Jared had arrived about an hour earlier, flying in before planned to stand with his friends through this difficult time. He sat back, relaxed, his long, lean legs crossed.

"They're going to hurt him." Jensen was beside himself.

"Man, no one's going to let anyone hurt him. I can assure you. And remember this was his idea."

"I know," he peeked through the slit again to check on him. He couldn't argue with Jared. The fans cared, cared deeply and immensely. They would do nothing to harm him. He knew that perfectly well, but it still didn't help.

"Any word from the police?"

Jensen plopped down in a chair. He was instantly furious. "Not a damn thing. Since Misha can't identify them and no one else saw them, they said there's very little that they can do. In other words, nothing."

Jared sat up, propping his elbows on his knees. "Well, tonight some of us are going out and get some drinks. We figure it's a small town, and mouths will run."

He liked the idea. A lot. This was the Sam coming out of his friend. Some fucking revenge.

"Come with us," he asked.

Up on his feet again. "I don't know." He looked at Misha again. Posing as directed, turning his head so only profile pictures were taken, trying to hide most of the bruises, and not once smiling. His eyes were kind, yet somehow empty to Jensen.

"I can't."

Jared didn't argue. He knew it would be a wasted effort.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

When that shoot was over they closed the room door as the next line quickly gathered outside. Jensen was immediately at his side.

"Bloody fuckers. If I knew who they were," Mark started growling.

Misha smiled. He was so thankful for all his protective friends. "Don't go all Crowley tonight. I'm not sure this town can take it."

Mark's expression was warm and caring. "You let me know if you need anything. Anything."

"I will."

Mark said his goodbyes as Jensen moved into the spot for the next photo shoot. He ran his tongue over his lips to wet them as he attempted to calm his breathing. 

Misha leaned in close to him before the door opened. "Smile for me. I need you right now."

Jensen's eyes almost teared up as he nodded in return. They had already discussed their duel photo op and he was prepared to be positive for the fans, as much as he possibly could.

When the doors opened the fans ranged from somber, giddy yet concerned to just pissed like individual defenders of his livelihood. And he couldn't argue with any of them. Every one of those emotions was coursing through him as he used his hands strategically to cover up Misha's injured lip or the cut on his head. They fulfilled the fans photo requests with creativity while still allowing Misha some privacy in the photograph. 

"You're not smiling," Misha whispered to him between fans.

He wanted to smile for the fans, but it was harder than he imagined. Every look at Misha sent anger and anguish pulsing in his veins. It was the longest hour of his life. 

Once the photo shoots were over they were escorted up to Misha's room by hotel security. They decided that it was best for Cliff to stay with Jared for the rest of the con day. Once in the room Misha dropped things on his dresser, emptying out his pockets as Jensen stayed near the door.

"Well, I..." He wanted to kick himself for fumbling with words. 

Misha turned around. It just killed Jensen to see him like this; he was like a puppy who had been kicked.

"I'll let you get some rest." His feet didn't move. They didn't want to.

Misha tilted his head and watched him for a minute. "You can stay."

Visible relief flooded him, so much that it even surprised him. It was what he wanted to hear. "I can. I just don't want to be in the way."

Misha walked closer to him. "You're never in the way. You should know that by now."

Jensen almost blushed, before he caught himself. What was he doing?

"I'll stay for a while. Keep you company."

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. It was the first sign of a real smile Jensen had seen since before this had all started.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

For a while they just quietly watched some TV together, Misha laying down on the couch, Jensen leaned back in a chair with his feet propped up on the coffee table. He was pretty sure neither of them was really paying much attention to the old B horror movie. Still, the quiet contentment was perfect.

"Feel like some late lunch?" Jensen asked, sitting up and stretching as the end credits rolled.

"Sure." Misha sat up also, just slower.

Every time Jensen looked at him the shock was like new, and the anger. "What sounds good?"

"Soup?"

He smiled.

Misha watched Jensen closely. "We can go out and get something if you want too. You know, if you're tired of being cooped up in here."

Jensen could hear the hesitation in his voice. Including the 'I don't really want to leave, but I will for you'.

"No, I'm enjoying the relaxing day. We'll eat it here."

The relief from Misha was visible.  
________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"I'm sorry."

Jensen looked up and swallowed his bite of salad. "Sorry for what?"

"I feel like I'm keeping you locked up for myself," he tried to smile.

"Hey, I volunteered for duty, so you can't get rid of me that easy." He shot Misha an eyebrow wiggle, trying to keep things light.

Misha looked down at his soup. "Good."

The rest of the meal they ate in a peaceful silence. Jensen cleared the dishes and put them outside the door for housekeeping to pick up later. Once back inside he saw that Misha had moved back out to the balcony and a gentle rain was falling outside.

"I'm going to be okay you know," Misha said quietly.

Jensen wasn't sure who he was trying to convince. "I know you are, just so long as you believe it too."

"I do. This just really shook me up. Stupid I know, but it did. I mean I deal with so many people from all over the world, but I've never dealt with anyone who just thrilled in violence for the sake of it." He paused the smiled. "Other than Crowley."

"Well, that's a given," Jensen retorted quickly. "Look, it would shake any of us up. No one thinks less of you for needing some recovery time. I mean hell, you went down there to do pictures despite the obvious pain you were in. The fans know how brave you are. You don't have to prove anything to anyone."

Misha looked up at him. "I need to prove it to you."

That caught Jensen off guard. "Me? Why me?" Even in the asking, he already knew the answer.  
"Because you're one of the most important people in my life. You're my best friend, my confidant," he smiled softly, "my Dean."

I'm his?

"I'm sorry if I've never made that clear. I guess I didn't want to step on toes, or push you away. But last night I realized how short life can be. It can be taken away in a heartbeat and I didn't want to ever face that feeling again without you knowing how I felt."

Jensen tried to control his breathing. Was he shocked? Horrified? Confused? Relieved? Maybe a little of everything. There was no denying that deep down he acknowledged there was more to him and Misha, even if they never acted on it.

Misha stood up. "I hope I've not said the wrong things."

Jensen stood up also and walked into the living room area. Misha followed him. "Jen?"

Jen.

"You've not said anything wrong."

"Are you going to leave?" His voice wavered, almost faltering.

Jensen thought through it all. The years with Misha, their friendship, what it meant, what he was afraid of, what he was afraid of losing. He turned around to find Misha close to him, his bruises now turning darker, the stitches, the full swollen lips.

"No. I'll stay as long as you want me too."

Misha moved a little closer and cupped Jensen's face in his hands. He waited to feel the flinch or pulling away and when neither happened he leaned in and gently placed his lips on his. Jensen closed his eyes and was instantly lost in the exquisite taste and feel of Misha. It was something he had imagined more than once, dreaming or not. 

He knew he was supposed to be gentle, but soon their tongues found each other, twisting and intertwining. Jensen moaned and Misha's hands tightened on him. The play was tender, yet hungry and soon Jensen's hands were at the slender waist in front of him. Misha pulled back, looking deep into the green pools that had captured him years ago. Jensen was catching his breath, looking wild-eyed and nothing short of beautiful. He needed to make sure this man he loved was okay with what just happened, that there would be no glances of regret or shame. For what he wanted to do to him required 100% consent.

"You okay?" Misha asked softly, as his lips brushed against the full lips in front of him. "I need to know you're okay with this." His tongue darted inside the slightly parted mouth as Jensen replied with a moan. "Moans are wonderfully desirable things, but I need you to tell me if I need to stop. Because otherwise I don't think I will be able to."

Jensen moaned deeper. "I ..." His head was swimming, lost in the scent of the man that held him close.  
Then fear took over and he stepped back, shaking his head as if to clear the cobwebs away, to clear the Misha intoxication from his mind. He was afraid to look into the eyes that felt he was betraying.

"I, I can't." He turned the door knob and was gone.

Misha didn't move for a minute. He knew then that he had pushed it too far and lost his friend forever.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jensen went straight to his room, no stopping, a man on a mission to solitude.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

He looked up to see Jared standing at his door. Instantly he tried to shake it off because this he couldn't share, not yet, not ever. Jared was his best friend but the fear of judgement from him was more than he could cope with at the moment.

He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to slow his heartbeat down. "Nothing. You looking for me?"

"Well, if you'd ever answer your phone I wouldn't have to come track you down."

Pulling his phone out of his pocket he saw the missed five calls. "Sorry man, my ringer was off."

"It's okay. I was just headed into town and wanted to know if you wanted to join?"

The first instinct was to say no. He needed some alone time to figure out what the fuck just happened upstairs. Then he decided that getting out of the hotel sounded great. He was running, he knew it, but for now he needed space to think.

"Yea, sure. Sounds great."

"Misha doing okay now?"

"Yea, he's okay. Just resting up some."

Jared turned towards the elevator. "Good, let's go."

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Jared loved getting out into the town when they were at cons. It had become a tradition for the two of them. Jensen knew he was like a giant kid and loved seeing new things and finding new clubs and bars to hang out in. If you ran into fans along the way it was just bonus to the evening. The evening had settled in with dark overcast skies again as they saddled up to a bar in a small club not far from the hotel. The mood was casual as they nursed some beers while watching a game on the big screen.

"You're not really into this today are you?" Jared asked. Jensen may think he's good at burying emotions, but Jared could read him like a book.

Jensen had tried real hard, to put all the Misha worries out of his mind for a short time. It just didn't come easy knowing he walked out on him. Was he okay? In his current state of mind could he handle the rejection? Had he rejected him? Did he want to?

"Just been a crazy couple of days is all."

"Yea, I get that. But this is something else. What's going on?" Jared hoped that some beer would entice his friend to talk more.

Damn Jared. How did he always read him so well? And this topic? He just couldn't face the look of horror if Jared knew what he dreamed at night. 

"He's just pretty shaken up."

"Well, it would fucking shake anyone up. Look, I know you'd rather be there, so you can check on him and that's cool with me. We can hang tomorrow night."

He looked at his watch. It was already almost nine thirty. "You meeting up with Richard and the others soon?"

"Yea, at the karaoke club across the street. Sure you want to pass up drunk singing with Matt?"

Jensen smiled. "I'll just head back."

Jared took a swig of beer. "So, what you planning on doing?"

"Watch movies I guess." Jensen fished out some bills to pay his tab.

"Well, just remember that Misha hates romantic comedies."

Jensen jerked around. "Who say's I'm watching movies with Misha?"

Jared threw his hands up. "Whoa, dude. Sorry, just assumed you'd keep him company tonight."

"Well, I might, don't know for sure." His strong stance failed in his own confusion. 

He put his beer down. "Look, I know you and Misha are tight and right now he needs a good friend to hang with and see him through it all. There's nothing wrong with that."

Jensen frowned. "I know that. I'm just not sure what the plans are right now."

A thrill ran through him at seeing Misha again. He couldn't deny the struggle of being away from him. He'd been miserable since he left.

"Just remember we have a panel at eight, so no cuddling until the sun comes up." Jared teased him.

Jensen was afraid his face went three shade paler. "That's not funny!" He barked as Jared laughed.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

He had tried to call, but there was never any answer. His heart was in this throat as he stood at the door waiting to even knock. Panic had him worrying that Misha had left after being rejected, then he would laugh at the thought that he would take it that serious, then back to fear. It was an exhausting thinking process over the last few hours and he knew he needed to see him. He needed to know he was okay and more than anything he needed to know if he had lost a good friend.

He knocked on the door.

He waited and there was no answer. The front desk said he hadn't checked out so he knew he had to be in there. In his hand was a key card to his room, left over from coming back from the emergency room last night. Last night. So much had happened, it seemed like an eternity ago. But yes, it was just last night and a good reminder that the man was still hurting and still in pain. He needed to know he was okay.

He slid the keycard in and opened it slowly. "Misha?"

All the lights were out, the TV was off, but he could easily see his silhouette on the balcony with his feet propped up. He turned and made sure the door was locked and dropped the key card on the dresser as he walked by. Misha had a beer in his hand and took a sip of it as Jensen leaned against the sliding door.

"Mind some company? Or maybe I should say, mind my company?"

Misha didn't look up. "You're always welcome company." The lift in his voice was encouraging.

Jensen let out a small sigh of relief. At least he was still talking to him. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, sore but overall much better."

They sat in silence for a moment.

Misha turned towards him. "Jen, I'm really sorry about earlier. The pain stuff must be messing with me more than I thought. You know I'd never want to risk our friendship over other stuff."

Another sense of relief. "Hey, it's okay. I'm sorry about running out like that, it wasn't fair to you. It just kinda took me by surprise."

"Well, I'm really sorry and I promise it won't ever happen again. I'm glad you came back."

Jensen suddenly felt odd. His stomach was in a knot with stress and his heart was beating out of his chest. Those were the words that made everything okay between them again, so why wasn't he happy to hear them? He felt a sense of loss, disappointment, of even being cheated out of something. There was no reason for him to feel this way, yet he did.

Damn it Jensen. This isn't right either.

"Hey, you okay?"

He looked up to see pools of blue worry looking at him and he realized he was gripping the arms of the chair until his knuckles had turned white. 

"Jen? What's wrong?" Misha was on his feet now and moving closer.

He had to relax. He had to breathe. In. Out. Breath God damn it. 

Breath!

Misha wanted answers and he didn't know what to say. He could move, however, and he jumped up out of the chair and darted to the living room. His head was swimming now. Somehow he felt like he was losing everything valuable to him. It was all gone, going to be gone. Was it already gone?

Misha was right behind him, suddenly whisking him around and putting him face to face. Now there was fear in those eyes, etched all over his face and Jensen's only need was to make that better. Grabbing his face, he pulled him forward and pressed his lips onto Misha's. There was no tenderness, only primal urgency and need. The response was instant as Misha wrapped his arms around him and pushed his tongue into the sweet mouth of the one he loved. This pain was bearable because this was what they both needed more than anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe more, if anyone is interested.


End file.
